6.2

Jewel coddled her smaller self in her coils and pumped the vigor of her wyrm flame deep into their little core of a heart to let it seep in waves back out into the rest of her diminutive extremities. There was a feel to it both the same and different from how she felt it welling up and flowing through the length of her larger self.

When Jewel flew or spewed her fire in one of the many manners she had learned there was a directionality to it.

But otherwise wyrmflame came from within equally and all along her body.

From tail to snout and even along the bones of her wing fingers.

Its presence could be smothered, slowed, or drained temporarily.

But it always came from her all at once.

Inside the body of ‘Gem’ that was a very different matter.

Jewel could push it into her smaller self any particular place she wished.

It was most comforting to press it deep into her little chest and fill her heart, but an arm, a finger, a single claw or scale could all be the place she pushed the flame.

And then like a cloth wicking away spilled wine the flame was pulled into the rest of her spawn’s body with an undeniable tension.

Seeking to fill her with an equal saturation.

And from there leak out into the world.

Since before she hatched Jewel had been filling her smaller self to bring peace and comfort.

At first to drive off the terrifying sensation of emptiness that a life without her flame brought.

But now she did it solely for the calm it helped bring to both her hearts.

And right now she needs that.

Valasect did not want her involved in their winter ritual.

“Neither your husband nor you or the gods which cling to you are of our land.”

So had said her headman, plainly and with all the candor she had begged him to bring to her when they met in private council.

“The priest of our temple warns that it could bring insult to those that guard us in winter.”

When Jewel had brought up how amiably she had been on with the Veles in his place as Old Man in Rochford, Andorjan had struck an even heavier blow then she thought possible.

“We don’t waste the lives of our wisest playing host to the Veles himself each winter.”

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She huddled around and against herself to try and bring some sense to it all.

“The priest does his duty properly and stands between the village and the star borne. We give him a gift of song, tall fires and a slain pig. But not a man’s life in sacrifice.”

Jewel had never thought about it before. That anyone could possibly do it any differently than her home had but then he’d explained it plain and undeniably to her and her confused husband.

“If someone has trouble they need to speak to the Velles personally about, then just going to Rochford on the longest night is better than potentially losing years with a good grandfather.”

Paul had been briefly amused, but when Jewel thanked Adorján and then sequestered herself in her bedroom to hug at her smaller self until she stopped wanting to cry he grew quiet and gentle.

His hand on her side was soft, moving in long strokes along her scales. His fingers lightly fluttered as they rose up and down her largest, newest scales. It made an almost rattling hum on her ribs if he let his hand pass swift enough.

But right now it is slow.

Letting each finger rise up and down those fresh hills of hide stronger than steel.

Finally Jewel felt able to speak, although she was briefly confused between which throat she was supposed to use.

“Gh*rzztkhk”

No, that was Gem’s throat, too short and squat for words.

It made her husband laugh and shift to coo and delight her smaller self with little silly finger flutters and pokes.

That had been strange the first time it happened but Jewel would take anything to lift her mood from the tumult she had found herself in.

When her smaller self had calmed enough for both of her, Jewel finally spoke.

“Paul? What should I do? It is my duty as their lady to give aid in this. But a good lady trusts her headman and his council in matters of common law.”

Her husband smiled gently as he spoke.

“Why not attend in your parent’s tradition? Like you said you are on good terms with the veles and Rochford hosts his presence for that night.”

Jewel squeezed her smaller self a little more tightly.

“But Valasect is my demesne... I should be here with them for the darkest night. When we push back upon winter.”

Paul shrugged.

“But this year you are not welcome, it is your right to demand a place with them. But Adorján makes good sense! Valasect’s people and their gods do not know you. To force our way when there is no need?”

Jewel stilled, looking down at herself, small and fragile and yet still undeniably her.

She turned the thought over in her head of all the ways that Bathory turned and twisted Jewel because of her right as Liege over Rochford.

Of all the girls that Jewel had not been able to save and would not be able to save because that is how the Countess of Viznove enacted her right as lady over her city.

Jewel thought of the stories told and carved in relief all through the valleys of the Ridgetail about the Tyrant Wyrm.

Certainty filled her heart on what she had to do.

“This year and maybe next we will stay with my family for the longest night. But after we will make efforts to know and be known by my people and their gods. I am tired of being feared by those I’m sworn to protect Paul.”

Her husband nodded solemnly at that and then utterly shocked her by descending on their ‘daughter’ with a tickle attack that had both of her bodies cackling in joy.